Our Secret To Keep
by Asta of the Vanir
Summary: I became quite intrigued with Hancock's character in F0:4 and so this story was born off an intuition on what the relationship interactions between my Sole Survivor, Rebecca, and John Hancock might be like. Contains strong language, violence, sexual themes, and some drug use. Warning: later chapters contain massive spoilers for the main quest line!
1. Chapter 1 - Questions of the Heart

There was no warning sign, no back-up plan; nothing to prepare her for any of this.

Rebecca had been an organizer, a planner, and an action-taker all of her life. That was the entire premise of why she decided to pursue her passions and study law while at school. Long before she had Shaun, and even before she had met Nate during her university years, she was someone who didn't easily shy away. Yet she somehow found herself in foreign territory now.

What was she supposed to do? Every gut instinct residing within was urging her to confront the source of her unease and discomfort.

 _But… no._

It wasn't at all discomfort that she felt; definitely not. He worked to encourage her to press beyond all that resigned negativity. She had grown accustomed to an embittered sadness and lonesome period over the course of the last many months that spurned her motivation to keep tailing her enemies, but her determination toward these goals were what motivated him to persist with her. That was precisely the problem.

The circumstances that drew them together weren't mere chance. Rebecca wouldn't stand to believe that. For all of her logistics and tactical shrewdness in the face of overwhelming threats looming throughout the Commonwealth, it felt as if she was succumbing to a fool's allure for treasure that wasn't rightfully hers to claim.

How could she be losing her grip now of all times? After all the horrendous bloodshed and betrayal; the tortured screams she still heard at night of Raiders' helpless victims beyond her reach, the vicious man-made abominations crawling the Wasteland that she was forced to contend with each run that was made for supplies, and the hollow echoes of her heart's cadence that she believed would remain severed from happiness forevermore. She couldn't afford the luxury of carelessness, especially when it came to her people-relations.

Besides, she didn't deserve another chance. Not when each day that passed was another day that her precious little boy, Shaun, was still in the godforsaken hands of despicable Institute murderers and kidnappers. Not when every step she took toward her baby met an obstacle that forced her hand to yet another detour that prevented her from fulfilling her promise. It was difficult, she was beginning to lose sight of the hope against such impossible odds. Rebecca's inner turmoil was prompting automated paces through the desolate foothills that led back to where this nightmare all began…. Sanctuary.

How ironic. Though it had stemmed many beloved and anguished memories for all that she had nurtured and lost, Rebecca and the townsfolk were beginning to call the mending colony a 'home' again. It was greatly encouraging for her to know that genuinely good-hearted people from all walks of life could collaboratively work to piece together even the most shattered vista into a warm and welcoming refuge for any that needed it.

She decided to tune back in after registering the slightly heavier shuffles of ornate black leather beside her that identified themselves as part of the subject in question.

 _Hancock._

Rebecca had shifted her eyes to observe him stalwartly marching alongside, his gaze honed on to the horizon, firm and purposeful, but with an intensive focus as if he was searching for something. He must have felt her inspections upon him and crooked his neck slightly to meet her critical stare with one of his own.

Her soft cerulean eyes regarded him kindly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's good," Hancock replied gruffly.

Rebecca nodded in acknowledgment. Despite the fact that she could sense something was amiss with him – she had been a wife and a mother, after all – it was no business of hers to pry into a man's life. Friends as they may be, she still didn't know him too well.

He had revealed a very tragic fragment of his past regarding his bad blood and the involvement of his brother, McDonough, in the mass-slaughtering of Diamond City's ghoul civilians many years ago; his shame with being a bystander for so long, and previous hesitance with helping those most in need of support.

This was understandable to her as she knew how difficult it was for folks she knew before the Great War to step up and make the right choices under pressure. One could have hoped that a nuclear holocaust might serve at least some common unity between people, but it turns out that even the grimmest of events would bring out the worst kind of characters like Vic, McDonough, and Kellogg.

Hancock had more than redeemed himself for any transgressions past in her eyes. The work that they were a living part of every day: rebuilding the Minutemen faction, cleansing abandoned outposts of pillaging thugs and mutated vermin, and serving as the often uncredited vigilantes of the Wastes, fighting to preserve the last vestiges of hope and good in those still willing to challenge chaos. All the instances where he threw himself down in front of her in order to protect her from harm hadn't gone unnoticed and she admired him greatly for it.

They began their approach toward the partially-collapsed bridge that sanctioned the settlement from most immediate hostilities. Once at the crossing, Rebecca spotted a few bodies that looked to be clothed in Raider garb.

 _Good. At least the armaments that I set up seem to be doing their job properly._

Hancock peered toward her. "Back in Sanctuary Hills again, eh?"

"Mm-hmm. There's so much work that still needs to be done to get this place fully functional for residents again. I don't want to settle for mediocrity when these good people are just looking to start their lives over by coming here, you know?"

Hancock's black irises glistened briefly. "Look," he said. "I think you should know that I have a deep respect for what you're doing here. It can't be easy coming back to relive all this devastation over and over again, but you manage to push those old constructs aside for the sake of making the most of what is left."

His mouth curled into an earnest, heart-stopping smile. "That's meaningful for these folks and it's damn well amazing to me."

Rebecca's heart skipped like a stone on water. She certainly didn't have to feel satisfactory in her efforts to earn his appreciation. Her face flushed slightly. "Thanks," she muttered.

How could she say anything more without sounding like a flustered schoolgirl? It didn't used to be this way between them. Once, she had simply invited a smart-mouthed ghoul out of Goodneighbor, one who was longing to sharpen his skills in the wilds, for a slew of unexpected adventures. She had his back while he had hers and it was a pleasant, but friendly camaraderie between two drifters seeking security in the unpredictable content of the Commonwealth.

Now she felt like a Nuka-Cola that someone had shaken before popping the cap, ready to burst at any moment. She experienced strokes of intense heat when they caught glimpses of each other after every run-in with hostiles on the road, making certain that no serious injuries were sustained, but the stares lingered longer each time. It was almost as if he had known for a while about the struggles in her head that were battling for what to feel, in that he was daring her to make the first move.

 _This is so wrong. I can't be giving into urges like this, there's too much at stake._

She didn't allow her composure to waver despite herself. "We should both get some rest until the morning. It's been a long ride since resupplying in Diamond City, and I'm going to work with a few of the townspeople tomorrow morning to improve the utilities of the halfway house."

Rebecca and a handful of the Sanctuary settlers, including Preston Garvey, Jun and Marcy Long had worked to create a three story boarding house for new arrivals to transition through before thinking seriously about making their own permanent home out of the materials from the previous houses set up in the village. It certainly wasn't an easy endeavor. After all, it had taken them almost four and a half months to build the basic infrastructure, not including heating, plumbing, and lighting for any of the floors. It was an extensive job, but they were making excellent progress despite having little to no experience with any other major construction projects.

Hancock grunted in agreement. "If you need any help with setting up any electrical connections, I'm your man. I did manage to improve some of the lighting fixtures around the main streets of Goodneighbor, so I wouldn't say I'm completely useless." He chuckled and smirked. "Heh. Dashingly good looks and a decent shotgun can only take a guy so far in life."

Rebecca's pupils had dilated. _You're of greater value than you know._

She smiled brightly. "Don't worry, you'll be the first I call when we get to that point."

"Glad to hear it."

Several weeks had passed since Rebecca and Hancock had arrived in Sanctuary to make improvements on site, and more Wasteland wanderers were slowly trickling into the fold. It was pleasing for Rebecca to see as she had dedicated so much time to making their first housing project appear as welcoming as possible. It didn't hurt that the growing establishment of the Minutemen's presence in town was an unexpected comfort and motivation for farmers, merchants, and families to journey from all across the Commonwealth to see for themselves.

Hancock had assisted the settlers with the construction of three localized generators for the transitional home as well as for front entrance security. Relays and pylons had been built to channel the electrical energy through the numerous light fixtures that had been wired through the metallic walls. They were even fortunate enough to happen by some dyed glass coverings to create make-shift holiday lights on the archways, courtesy of Rebecca's last scavenging project into some office building ruins several days ago.

Christmas was fast-approaching and with all the success and prosperity that the development of Sanctuary was showing, everyone started to become more optimistic. So happily bustling was the community that even perma-fierce Preston Garvey had spared a rare grin when coming to receive updates on the different housing projects. On this particular day, Rebecca was preoccupying herself with gathering and arranging décor around the village and its now glowing homes. She was presently placing some crimson bows made from bits of patchwork that Mama Murphy offered to stitch together around the interior of the halfway home.

A nearby radio on the ground floor was playing a stream of Pre-War holiday tunes and had currently selected Nat King Cole's, 'Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire'. Rebecca had closed her eyes and began to sway to the gentle, hypnotizing melody that whisked her away to a time with little troubles. A time where seasonal love was misting in the air and folks found themselves allured into a sense of generosity, lowered inhibitions, and communal belonging with those around them. She was so entranced in her reverie that the distant footsteps continuing toward her went without recognition.

"Having fun, are we," a voice behind her inquired, their playful undertone evident.

Rebecca's eyes sparkled with tears as she swerved around and beamed. "Hancock..." Her own voice seemed to crack with overwhelming emotion. "It's been so long since I've felt I could relish a moment that wasn't ridden with sadness and guilt."

She extended her hand toward a piece of the revised American flag that was draping loosely on the wall beside her. Rebecca started to stroke her thumb absentmindedly across the smooth fabric. "I think I've often forgotten the reasons for why I'm out here, constantly having to be guarded and combating the lowest dregs of humanity," she said gently, her glassy eyes casually roaming across the material. "If people don't witness the results that we say comes after the fighting is said and done through our efforts to try and be happy with what we've accomplished, how can we expect anyone else to put out the same?" After finishing, she reached out to tuck a loose strand of her silky auburn hair behind her ear.

Hancock took a step closer to her. "Simple: we can't."

His tender black orbs sought her own delicate cerulean irises that shone like two brilliant topazes in the gleaming light. "Remember when I told you that people like you and I are a rarity in places like this?"

Rebecca nodded and he continued. "Well, it still holds that if people like us don't stand up to represent the best of what can come out of such damage and despair, the masses will divide and scatter as they always have.

"The people look to the most charismatic figures for reassurance. But when shit hits the fan and without a leader to guide them, the common folk tend to resort to their primal instincts," he said darkly, studying the flag that hung before him.

Rebecca could have sworn she saw the ceaseless beauty of those ebony eyes she loved so spark aflame from within for the briefest instant, though it could have been a trick of the light.

Hancock's stare flickered back to her as he carefully pondered his next words. "Some real assholes have tried to masquerade as the beacon for which people want to follow. It's our job to step up and make sure that folks don't fall under those kinds of corruptible influences."

What he did next was unprecedented as he reached a calloused hand out to cup her cheek, still as smooth as if she had never departed that parallel world of hers. Rebecca's pulse dramatically quickened with the contact he made to her skin, but his profound speech had resonated inside her and she soon found herself leaning into his touch, welcoming the affectionate gesture. She closed her eyes and sighed, encircling the violently scarred wrist of the hand that was ensnaring her with its warmth in this bitter chill.

As she gazed back toward him, Hancock's onyx hues were penetrating through every part of her being. She felt completely exposed to his scrutiny as he held that look of ferocious determination upon her, the same long-distance, searching stare that he exhibited as they last arrived here. It was as if he believed the answers to all of his doubts and unfulfilled questions lay in those vast, serene oceans that he was incredibly mystified by.

 _She's so mesmerizing. How could anyone, much less a damn chem-loving Ghoul like me, even hope to be with such a beautiful and sensitive woman like her?_

Rebecca's lips unconsciously parted as she started to realize the precarious position they were in. _Was this really happening?_

"You deserve every bit of happiness you can find in this damnable place. Don't you ever think otherwise, no matter what," Hancock whispered.

He seemed even closer now as he hovered over her slim form, giving her no choice but to peer straight into those swirling ebony pools. She was still grasping his wrist in a firm, but gentle manner.

Hancock swallowed. He couldn't recall the last time he felt so enraptured with someone, if his heart ever fluttered so easily like it did when he was in her presence. In a way, she commanded him with her insatiable glances she snuck when she assumed he wasn't paying attention. This woman embodied all the traits of strength, compassion, and tenacity that he strived to express to his demanding public every day to show that each of their unique voices hadn't been lost on him. She took time as he did to tend to the concerns of the little guys, the underdogs of these wretched badlands that lived by the policy of 'kill or be killed'.

During their wilderness crusades, he would observe how random Wasteland wanderers would fawn over her, even after she had spared all the time and resources she could afford to part with just to make their lives a bit easier. Blockades of Raider scum whose eyes would fill with a lust-crazed carnage at the sight of her trying to reason with any of them before resorting to violence and it boiled his blood to the brim. _None of them had any right to lay a fucking hand on her._ This sort of attitude would constantly fuel his resolve to mercilessly exterminate any foe that threatened her well-being.

On two separate occasions of the same day, she had sustained some rather severe gunshot wounds. The first was to her lower abdomen, the second at her left shoulder. Hancock had invested several sleepless nights tending to her injuries, and trying to the best of his lackluster medical capabilities to nurse her back to health. All the while, he couldn't prevent himself from staying by her side all those nights that she spent fighting off the infections as she restlessly slept. Hancock felt his chest tighten each time she would moan and cry out in agony from the shooting pains in the early hours of the morning. It shattered him to know he could do no more to ease her suffering apart from waiting for the wounds to close after he had removed the bullet shells. Never again did he allow his guard to waver in the slightest while they were transitioning through untamed territory.

He hadn't known when it began. Whether at the point when she had come back to see him in the Old State House to fess up that she had been in cahoots with Bobbi for a shady odd job until discovering Bobbi's treachery to steal from his secret cache or when he first witnessed her commitment to the Minutemen and how she dedicated so much of herself to making the locals' lives more bearable in spite of the harassment she received for her efforts or just some spontaneous revelation he'd had at some point while they were traveling together.

He was madly in love with the darling woman that stood before him. He desperately wished for Rebecca to take him in as he was now: tender, endearing, loyal, and true to no other except for her. The emotions that he sensed from her were challenging to interpret, but he could feel her trembling slightly beneath his touch. Hancock wished only for her to be happy, and though he couldn't prove it, he could detect that she was also hiding part of herself away from him.

"You look absolutely gorgeous in that new dress," Hancock remarked as his hand returned to its proper place at his side.

Rebecca had this inexplicably hollow feeling after the warmth from his hand had left her cheek. That didn't prevent her face tinging crimson from the compliment, however.

She pursed her lips in embarrassment. "I-uh.. sort of found this lying around by a stray suitcase…" Rebecca paused in thoughtful contemplation. "It's truly a pity that the lady who must have previously owned it didn't get the chance to put it to good use."

Hancock let out a mischievous chuckle. "Those pretty sequins are certainly being put to damn fine use now. Without a doubt."

Rebecca bit her lip, deliberately evading eye contact with him now. She couldn't understand why having a simple conversation with her good friend had become so unnerving. Her hands had begun to palpitate in response to the combination of their realized proximity of mere inches and the immense wave of heat that was suddenly brought upon her. She also couldn't prevent the series of images playing repeatedly in her mind of her springing into Hancock's arms, knocking him off his boots, and passionately kissing him into a senseless bliss. _Oh, my… I can't be..._

Hancock frowned. _Why was she turning away from me? I can't be losing it. I know she saw the connection there, too._

He tilted her chin back toward him. "C'mon, you're not fooling me. What are you afraid is going to happen?"

Rebecca fluttered her eyes shut. _Everything and more. That there will be no going back after this._

As she apprehensively opened herself up to him once more, it was understood that the distance keeping them apart was narrowing even further. She could start to feel his warm, ragged breath tickle the front of her chin.

This was it. She was giving in to all of him. There were no more expectations to uphold, no more boundaries dividing what was appropriate and what felt right anymore. Their bonds were broken and for a stolen moment in time, they could let go of all inhibitions that were shackling honest affection and burning desires for flesh and unconditional love from one another.

Rebecca's lips spread, so as to grant him full access to whatever he wished from her. It was now made painstakingly clear by his dauntless question that he wanted her. But by hell, she could no longer deny she wanted him desperately like no other.

Hancock managed to snake his other arm around her waist, pulling her abruptly to him. His hand moved from her chin to cup her delicate face yet again, gnarled fingers gingerly caressing her soft porcelain skin as if to memorize every line and curve. His eyes were closed as he began to lean in, her intoxicating scent of wild berries and the subtle, but powerful hint of rain driving him mad.

They were but a hairsbreadth from each other's lips when a shout nearby interrupted the intimate moment.

"Rebecca! Rebecca, are you in there?!" Someone was calling from just outside the main entrance to the house.

Rebecca bolted from their close embrace and both scrambled to collect themselves before who turned out to be Jun Long burst through the front door without warning. Jun almost immediately spotted the couple off the base of the staircase. He looked rather disheveled and appeared to be quite riled up over something.

Rebecca brushed some stray hairs from her face and turned to address the young man with a small, polite smile. "Hi, Jun. Is there a problem of some sort?"

Hancock was grumbling angrily to himself in response to the intrusion, while Rebecca shot him an irritated glare.

Jun perked up at hearing her offer to help. "Yeah, there is a bit of a-um... a problem. I think Mama Murphy has gone into some sort of withdrawal symptoms from the-uh… chems she was taking. We're having a real hard time calming her down, but she does seem to respond better to you. Do you think you could…?"

Rebecca sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "Yeah... sure. I'll see what I can do, Jun."

"Oh, thank goodness. I was a bit nervous of what might happen if you were in the middle of something." Jun exchanged a glance with Hancock who, presently, did not appear all that pleased with what was going on. He crossed his arms and glared at the boy.

"Well, I guess we should get a move on, then," Jun said meekly. Rebecca followed him out of the house, though not before her eyes flickered back to see the disappointment evident in Hancock's eyes. As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, Hancock turned to the adjacent wall and slammed his fist. "God damn it, Jun! Why did it have to be her?"


	2. Chapter 2 - Trouble on the Homefront

Rebecca and Jun proceeded to the old garage in the town centre. As they made their way inside, two distinct voices that she recognized as belonging to Preston Garvey and Mama Murphy could be heard bickering through the walls.

"Mama Murphy, you can't keep this up any longer. You are killing yourself," Preston pleaded.

"Stop your badgering, young man! I'm old enough to know what I'm doing to my own body. There's no help for it. Now, if you ain't gonna help me get some Jet for the shakes, then you might as well save your breath. I won't have any of it!"

"Please, try to be reasonable. This is your life we're talking about, Mama. The symptoms are only going to become more severe from this point on unless you get help!"

"Damn it all! Put a cork in it, Preston! You've been tryin' for years to get me to go cold turkey and it won't work. I know of people whose conditions off the chems started from shakes, then got to seizures, and they went an' collapsed. Is that what you want for me?"

"Of course not, Mama Murphy. I-"

Preston halted their argument as he spotted Jun returning with news. "Jun.. who-? Ah, Rebecca… good, good. You've brought someone who can talk some sense into Ms. Stubborn here," he turned and narrowed his eyes toward a disgruntled looking Mama Murphy. Her eyes were bloodshot and it appeared as if she hadn't bathed in almost a week.

Rebecca poked her head through the bedroom archway. "Hey, Mama Murphy. How're you doing?" She smiled sweetly at the elderly woman, attempting to feign ignorance.

"Oh, you know how it is. This worry wart over here is spoilin' my fun," Mama Murphy said indignantly.

Preston just shook his head in silent resignation. "Well, I've done all I can. I just hope you have some better luck." He waved his arm. "C'mon, Jun. We should give 'em some time alone. Besides, I need some assistance fixing roof leakages."

"U-uh, okay. Sure th-thing there, Preston," Jun stuttered awkwardly. Preston marched out with Jun pattering quietly behind him.

Rebecca shook her head and grinned. "Poor kid. He's seems so intimidated by Preston." She made to seat herself on an armchair perpendicular to Mama Murphy's mattress.

"Jun looks up to Preston in a lot of ways, ya know," Mama Murphy spoke sympathetically.

Her half-lidded eyes glazed over, whether out of pity for the boy or chem withdrawal, no one could say. "Preston was there with us when Jun's son, Kyle, was taken. Everyone loved Jun and Marcy's cute little guy, so it was rough on all of us. Preston was the first one there to comfort Jun after his loss; he went on to save the young man's life several times when he'd lost his will to go on anymore."

A few tears had escaped and cascaded down Rebecca's cheeks as she listened intently. She smiled sadly as her thoughts drifted on her old neighbours in this quaint little town. _Not one of my Pre-War neighbours had ever bothered to even visit, much less inquire about my and Nate's welfare all the years we lived here. Even after I had given birth to Shaun, no one offered any help with the baby save the face-value pleasantries while I was preparing to leave the firm, keep up a house, and share childcare responsibilities with Nate. Everyone here and now in this settlement was part of such a close-knit group, just like a family. They would care for, protect, and look after one another and make sure that no one was left behind. It was complete selfless unity and it was beautiful._

As Rebecca made to wipe at her tear-stained cheeks, she clamped a hand on to Mama Murphy's shoulder. "There's nothing worth living for more than a loving family that sticks with you through thick and thin," she croaked out, her voice betraying her own longing for lost time.

Mama Murphy spared her a fond smile. "I couldn't agree more, sweetie. I just hope you'll find what you seek sooner rather than later. You've suffered a great deal yourself and I know that everyone here has come to see you as a part of our quirky little group." A jittery hand reached out to clasp Rebecca's. "You and Preston are my family, dear. And don't you go forgetting that now," she said. Her face aglow as she poked Rebecca playfully on the tip of her nose.

Rebecca's lip started to quiver. "Oh, Mama…" She knelt over to embrace the frail old woman that she'd come to regard as a motherly-like figure to confide in despite her struggles with substance abuse. Rebecca understood that if she wanted to help her dear friend, she couldn't take the same directly critical approach as Preston had. She had to appeal in a way to Mama Murphy's desire for fulfillment while still providing a temporary solution to her addiction, which gave Rebecca an idea.

As they pulled apart, Mama Murphy scanned her over. "Oh, we were so caught up in all that mushy talk that I didn't even get a chance to get a good look at you, dear." Rebecca cocked her head, quizzically. "Stand up, would you, doll?"

 _Heh. Okay, I knew where this was going._ Rebecca got to her feet and did a brief twirl before seating herself back down.

"My, oh my! Do you look sizzling in that dress, girl, or what," Mama Murphy exclaimed giddily. "Now it makes sense why Preston had quite the pair of googly eyes as soon as you walked in, dear."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Mama, don't start with that nonsense."

Mama Murphy was chortling like a child with a dirty secret. She finally raised her hands in resignation. "Alright. I still say he would make a fine man for you, dear, but it's your decision. He's very sweet on you, ya know," she remarked kindly.

"We've been over this before. He and I are just good friends, nothing more. I'm thankful enough for his friendship and trust," Rebecca stated firmly.

Mama Murphy smirked at her, then sighed. "Alright, dear. Don't go working yourself into a tizzy like he does. I was only teasing."

Rebecca smiled warmly. "I know, Mama. I know."

"So, who is the lucky man, then, I wonder?" Mama Murphy winked at her, clearly not willing to be dismissed of her gossipy chats just yet. _She couldn't possibly have known about the risque chance encounter that was shared between myself and Hancock. Could she? It wasn't as if I'd dropped any obvious hints._

 _"_ Why on earth would you assume that I require a man as my excuse to look nice," Rebecca inquired with a challenging smirk, placing a hand on her hip. _Like blood-covered metal plates and tattered leather padding is at all appealing casual ware._

"Oh, no particular reason," Mama Murphy remarked nonchalantly, dusting off her coat. "I just never see you this dressed up for any occasion, really."

"It is the holiday season, Mama. Christmas is just around the corner and where I come from, people sometimes like to dress up during this time," Rebecca offered. Her explanations seemed to be falling on deaf ears, however.

Mama Murphy sat up from her mattress and placed a pillow beneath her head as she leaned up against the wall. She was strumming her fingers uncontrollably upon her thighs as she tucked her legs close to her chest. As she looked upon Rebecca's face, the corners of her mouth creased into a small smile, but she seemed far away. Both lost in her thoughts and trying to cope as best she could with the worsening effects of her chem shortage. It was truly heartbreaking to witness. Rebecca knew she didn't have much time before Mama Murphy could potentially suffer another attack. It was of the utmost imperative that she act as quickly as possible.


	3. Chapter 3 - Frustrations and Ruminations

Hancock stood on the third floor of the halfway house, pacing back and forth. Thankfully, since there was still some light out for another hour or two, everyone was still out making maintenance repairs or tilling soil for the garden. Despite the solitude he had to think and the freedom from prying questions of the settlers here, Hancock was still very irritated.

 _Why the fuck did it have to be at that right moment? Why couldn't the damn boy have waited another minute before running in?_

He and Rebecca had been on the cusp of breaching all barriers between them. There was a deeply-rooted, insatiable yearning he held for her and he knew the instant she'd pressed into his touch that she wanted to cross that bridge with him. Hancock had come to the realization that she was the only woman he could envision being with, the only person who saw him truly as he was. Though she respected him as a man, she wouldn't hesitate on calling him out when he was behaving like a blunt-headed ass nor did she worship him like some of his fellow Ghoul compatriots in Goodneighbor who idolized him and his philosophical speeches like he was some kind of a damn prophet.

He wasn't any person's god or just any typical Wasteland asshole, for that matter. He knew his own limitations, especially when it came to the chems and his occasionally over-inflated ego. But he had a heart of gold when it came to guiding victims away from abuse and fighting for humanitarian causes that seemed to most drifters like an antique practice saved for another time, in another life. They lacked the vision that people like him had and certainly checked their will and their balls at the door when it came to seeing their commitments through. Words meant jack unless you could back them up with practical action.

Oh, and he fully intended on following through with Rebecca. He had long since given up hope on redemption for himself after all the years he squandered, living in his own apathetic bubble out of fear of reprisals from murderous tyrants while others became the sacrificial lambs. Even after Hancock had put his foot down, ended his own streak of indifference toward the world's suffering, and reformed a crime lord's den into a shelter for the lost to find purpose and meaning, it was no consolation for his own follies.

He had often spent long hours in the days and into the evenings when he wasn't hosting gatherings and tending to Goodneighbor's general upkeep ruminating on his own fate. Did he really belong in this place anymore? He no longer had a family to speak of; his parents had been gone many years and his brother a disassociated power-hungry lunatic, for which he was dead to him. Most of his old friends had abandoned his side when he started his campaign against McDonough for a free, anarchy-based settlement that welcomed any and all leagues of people into its midst. He didn't expect anyone would genuinely look his way as a friend, much less come to care for him at all, until he met her.

The night of their first encounter wasn't exactly held under the best circumstances. The goddamn dickhead, Finn, just had to go stirring up trouble again with the newcomers. The kid couldn't seem to learn that extortion and death threats were simply not inclusive of the Goodneighbor lifestyle. Rebecca and her little reporter friend, Piper, had come waltzing through the gates at 2 A.M, bloodied and exhausted, ogling the quaint community like two mice lost in a labyrinth. The biggest pair of wet ears he'd ever laid eyes on and he had to restrain himself from fits of laughter as he observed them from his shadow-cloaked corner.

That first night he'd seen her, Hancock had recalled the distinction of the occurrence. She certainly didn't take shit from anyone by how she handled herself.

 _"_ _Hey, you! You're new to Goodneighbor? You're gonna need insurance." Finn was overconfident in his abilities to intimidate the female pair._

 _Rebecca folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Unless it's 'keep big, dumb assholes away from me' insurance, I'm not interested," she said brazenly._

 _Piper snickered._

 _"_ _Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that. It's risky, ya know. Wandering around the city at night. Accidents could happen to you an' your cute friend," he spoke menacingly. "Big, bloody accidents."_

 _That had been the turning point._

 _"_ _Woah, woah. Time out."_

 _A figure emerged from the darkened corridor. What looked to be a man clad in a rather tattered red tailed coat that had seen better days, deemed by the rips and loosened stitchwork, had sauntered over. His black tricorn hat had hidden his face from view, but Rebecca observed that his hands bore an angry pink hue with a stretched, withered appearance to them. If she had to judge the man solely on this, she would have assumed him to be a pre-war relic that predated even her time by many centuries. He looked like an American Revolutionary soldier by his get-up and he seemed to be someone of importance in this place._

 _The man now stood a few feet in front of the lowlife that greeted her and Piper at the gate. "The moment someone steps through that door, they're a guest."_

 _"_ _What d'you care? The broad ain't one of us," the lowlife challenged._

 _The man in the red-tailed coat shook his head and chuckled. "What, no love for your mayor, Finn? I said let her go."_

 _Okay, so he was someone of authority here. At least he had backbone enough to stick up for new people unlike so many others._

 _"_ _You're gettin' soft, Hancock. You let outsiders walk all over us, one day there'll be a new mayor," Finn said, the hostility in his tone evident._

 _"_ _C'mon, man. It's me we're talking about here. Let me show you something."_

 _Hancock put an arm around Finn in a familiar manner as if they were friends, as another hand covertly reached behind his back to produce an ornate curved dagger. In a matter of seconds, he had executed two swift thrusts with his knife to Finn's exposed belly. All that was heard was a dry groan that had escaped Finn's lips before he collapsed in a puddle of his own blood._

Finn just couldn't resist the urge to intimidate unwary travellers and left him with no choice but to cleanse the reputation of Goodneighbor with the boy's blood.

Where her friend, Piper, hadn't even flinched, Rebecca seemed rather upset by the whole ordeal. It was as if she had never even witnessed a public execution in her life. Very uncharacteristic for anyone that had grown up in the merciless Commonwealth to feel such empathy and remorse for someone they didn't even know. Then again, he didn't expect their newest arrival to have been an original Vault Dweller of all things, if you could even call her that.

It's hard to imagine what it would have been like living in a picturesque reality, having green grass and a loving family one day, then having to flee all you knew and waking up the next with no identity. Nothing but the page of your life, torn from an old tome that had been lost in time from the next generations; a placeholder in a reality that never should have existed. It was no wonder to him that she worked so diligently and was relentless to find a purpose and fit in within these small agrarian communities.

Despite Rebecca's unique gift for inspiring people, he could tell she was just as lonely as he was at the end of the day. Hancock wanted nothing more than to simply snatch her from everyone else's calls, kiss away all the pain and doubt she bottled from the world, and accompany her through whatever hellholes she needed to trudge past in order to find her son and make those who took him pay dearly. He would do anything for this woman, no matter the personal cost.

 _And by god, did she look stunning in that sequin dress._

Hancock couldn't remember any of the relationships he had before, albeit their brief longevity, igniting such passionate fires in his belly. Most women he'd been with before his ghoul transformation had clung to him like ravenous dogs on a piece of meat. As he recalled, he was recognized as one of most sought after bachelors in Diamond City for a while. Before his brother had cracked, his older sibling would tease him constantly for all the attention he received from girls as an adolescent. It was incredibly aggravating as he could very seldom decipher whether or not someone genuinely cared for him or was just interested in ' _capping the beast',_ as they would say. One major benefit of his transformation was that he could always tell the character of an individual by their initial reaction to him. Most would, at the very least, flinch and turn away; others would run for the nearest wastebasket and retch their last meal; and then some of the more choice douchebags would stick around to call him every foul profanity in the book, to which he couldn't care less.

When he first introduced himself to Rebecca following the violent little episode with Finn, she didn't even twitch or turn away, but looked him directly in the eyes with those shining blue gems of hers as they spoke. After she'd departed, he expected that it could have been due to delayed shock until she returned the very next day to inquire about the history of and his experience in Goodneighbor, as well as if there was anything she could do to help improve conditions around town. At the time he assumed that she was either one of the most convincing bullshiters he'd ever met or he was so high that the chems were distorting his perception of speech because how could someone as lovely as she truly want to help people she had no personal investment with?

He soon came to witness that Rebecca was a real bleeding heart. She would stop so frequently on the road to dole out water, medicine, and spare food she'd learned to cook from the flesh of beasts roaming the Commonwealth for ailing Wastelanders that it made him question her sanity. The woman had no concept of conservation for valuable resources out here, and it didn't help that his heart softened every time she would ask him for confirmation before she handed out items from their stash to random strangers.

There was still an element that he couldn't shake and it was how damn quick she was to jump out of his arms at the first detection of someone coming. Had he done something she wasn't comfortable with or was she just embarrassed of possibly being seen together in that light?

 _Was she ashamed of me?_

Hancock didn't even want to attempt to entertain questions on those lines. He couldn't bear the possibility that she was disgusted with the idea of being with him romantically; the very thought made his stomach churn. As heartbroken as he would be if she felt they weren't more than good friends and backing partners in the Wasteland or if she just couldn't move past the grief from her late husband's death, he would still accept that. If that was the case, he needed to know that they weren't meant to be together under honest terms. He suspected that she might be apprehensive, too afraid that something could go wrong and he didn't want to lose her to something that superficial.

As soon as she got back from helping that Mama Murphy, he would lay all the cards out on the table. The time for being a blunt-headed ass was now and this might be the last chance he would have before he lost the nerve. She needn't be nervous around him; he would show her the way to his heart.


	4. Chapter 4 - A Mother's Medicine

Rebecca abruptly sat up from her chair and squeezed herself on to the bed to lie beside Mama Murphy. She scooted as close as possible to her paling elderly friend and wrapped her arms around the older woman. Hopefully, Mama Murphy trusted her enough on her word or matters would take a turn for the worst.

"Mama Murphy," Rebecca whispered gently.

The elder's eyes were heavily glossed over as the first of a series of brief tremors began to run down her arms, but she managed to respond. "Yes, dear," she answered wispily.

Rebecca anxiously licked her lips. "Um.. I might be able to get you a bit of a-uh.. quick fix, but you have to promise to keep it between us, okay?"

Mama Murphy suddenly perked up, some light returning to her eyes. "Would you, really," she asked hoarsely. Her voice was surprised but hopeful.

"Um…yeah. Just give me a minute to go grab the stuff," Rebecca muttered quickly.

"Yes, yes, of course. Don't be too long though, alright? These old muscles can only take so much."

Rebecca lightly squeezed her elder's hand in a gesture of sympathetic affection, then scrambled out of the bedroom. She proceeded to the workshop in the old garage and knelt down beside the bench. In a narrow gap behind the bench and hidden from view by some rusty bean cans were several containers labelled ' _Addictol'_ and one bottle that was unmarked apart from the vague word, ' _Tester'._

- _Flashback_ _to_ a _few months before-_

 _Rebecca knew that it was a serious concern that Mama Murphy be cured of her chem addiction if she was to survive longer than a half year, perhaps a little longer if she was fortunate enough. She had decided to pay a visit to Doctor Sun in Diamond City, who was one of the only people in the settlement she could communicate with honestly. Perhaps that was due in part to the fact that he was one of the only legitimate clinicians that existed in the Commonwealth and he took a 'no nonsense' approach toward anyone he suspected was wasting his time without a genuine medical concern._

 _"_ _Doctor Sun," Rebecca inquired._

 _"_ _Yes, what is it? I've got all sorts of patients arriving this afternoon, so I haven't much time to spare for idle chit-chat. Make it quick."_

 _"_ _Um-yeah, sure. This will only take a few moments of your time, doc. Could we sit down?"_

 _Sun looked at her pointedly, but agreed as they got comfortable on his set of squishy red armchairs._

 _Rebecca folded her hands in her lap. "So, I have this very good, elderly friend of mine. She's been struggling with the drugs for years and is very resilient at this point to being talked into any sort of alternative treatment," she began._

 _The doctor nodded and continued to listen patiently._

 _"_ _I wanted to know if you might have stumbled upon anything that I might be able to use to at least_ slightly _lessen her cravings for chems?"_

 _Doctor Sun grasped his chin and paused for a few seconds in deep thought. He looked up toward Rebecca. "And you say this has been ongoing for many years, correct?"_

 _Rebecca nodded her head in affirmation._

 _"_ _Hm… okay. If that is the case, then I may have something for you." He propped himself up from his seat and took out a keyring from his lab coat pocket. He proceeded to unlock a large steel encasing and started to rummage through numerous glass vials, prescription containers, and herbal salves crammed into the very condensed space. After about half a minute, Doctor Sun closed and secured the encasing and produced a medium-sized wine bottle filled with an off-clear liquid in his hand. He strode over to face opposite of Rebecca._

 _He curtly held out the bottle, "Here. This may just do the trick." Rebecca took the bottle from his grasp and turned it around in her palms, but could see no discernible labels on it._

 _She cocked her eyebrow, confused. "Uh.. what exactly is this, doctor?"_

 _"_ _This is a solution I concocted more recently. It works similarly to a Pre-War device from over 250 years ago called a 'Nicotine Patch'. The idea was to help enable tobacco users to quit smoking faster. Essentially to do this, companies developed an adhesive pad the size of a disinfecting towelette that would dispense nicotine to the wearer without-"_

 _Rebecca cut in. "Without all the harmful chemicals that actual cigarettes and other tobacco products contained._

 _Doctor Sun frowned in disapproval, though nodded. "Yes, that was the main point of the invention. The only difference between that product and mine is that this solution to combat chem cravings is ingestible. You can take it orally."_

 _She looked at him sheepishly, scratching the back of her scalp. "Sorry for interrupting you, doc. It's just.. we all learned about these in school, during med history cl-" Rebecca widened her eyes at the realization of how she might sound to the doctor. As if on cue, his dark eyes had widened considerably and his eyebrows lifted in suspicious disbelief._

 _"_ _U-uh..-I meant that I-um.. learned about it through my great-granddad's history books. I was homeschooled… for a time," she amended briskly._

 _Doctor Sun narrowed his eyes, but seemed to accept her explanation. "Very interesting… books about those types of items are quite uncommon now, unless you've had tutelage under a expertly-trained professional.. or managed to find a way into one of the old city libraries. But most of them tend to be overrun with the Super Mutant lot among other foul creatures."_

 _Rebecca laughed nervously. "Yeah, who would have figured they had it so well preserved all these years." She cleared her throat, wanting to return to point. "So, what you're saying is this solution will convince her that she is taking chems without her full knowledge of what is actually in here," she questioned._

 _The doctor nodded. "That's correct. I had modified the formula to bind to the sensory receptors for taste in the body that will allow the solution to stimulate the same feeling that a chem like Jet or Buffout would under the guise of these drugs. Many addicts wanting to get clean have come to me with complaints of the repugnant taste of Addictol, claiming it was so nauseating that not many could successfully digest it. So, I made this solution in the hopes that addicts could gradually reduce the severity of their symptoms with small to moderate doses of the solution," he stated articulately. "This way, those who had used could eventually learn to mix the Addictol in with the solution in order to cure their cravings completely."_

 _Rebecca appeared both fascinated and elated by all of this new information. "Wow, that's amazing! You could provide so much hope for chem addicts everywhere with the brilliance of this invention."_

 _He smiled ruefully. "Yes, well… unfortunately the ingredients I require to make the solution are especially rare, dangerous, and thus expensive to acquire, so I have only been able to synthesize limited quantities."_

 _"_ _Oh my. Well, I'm very honoured that you would spare some of your rare stock for me. Thank you so much, doc," Rebecca said, immensely grateful._

 _"_ _Somehow, I have the distinct feeling that you'll put it to good use for your friend," he stated._

 _She beamed. "Don't worry, I'll bide my time. It will be used wisely."_

 _"_ _That is good to hear. Well, then. I must return to my work. Now, for the matter of payment: 400 caps up front should cover chemical expenses."_

 _Rebecca dug into her cap lunchbox and counted out exact change for him. As the doctor added the fee to his safe, he turned to her one last time before she left the city._

 _"_ _Let me know of any adverse side effects! I'll try to assist as best I can."_

 _Rebecca had slung her travel bag over her shoulder as she called back to him. "Can do, Doctor Sun! Thanks again!"_

As she spotted the med treatments, Rebecca snatched both the bottle labeled ' _Tester'_ and an _Addictol_ from her hidden stash and quietly tip-toed to the nearby kitchen.

She unwrapped a hastily scribbled note that she'd copied Doctor Sun's directions on for administering the solution. Rebecca made to grab a plasteel drinking cup from an upper storage cabinet and set it down beside the two other containers of aid. Carefully reading the instructions, she poured three quarters of the cup's volume with the frothy liquid from the solution and filled the remaining space with a very minor portion of _Addictol._

As she was mixing the contents of the concoction together, she heard Mama Murphy cry out from the corner bedroom. "Becca! Honey, where did you go? I thought you were coming back for me!"

Rebecca pursed her lips before calling back. "I'll be there in a moment, Mama! I just spilled something on my dress and am trying to clean it off!" That seemed to do the trick as the rooms in the home quieted down. The only sound breaching the countryside peace was the distant noise of hammering on rooftops for maintenance repairs. Rebecca wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead. "Whew, that was close," she said, relieved.

It was common knowledge that any chem addict had to consume the full contents of one whole _Addictol_ in order to gain the cure-all benefits from the medicine. She understood it would take Mama Murphy a little time to adjust, but now that Rebecca had earned her unwaveringly faith and trust, it would be much easier to get her to down these concoctions without too much difficulty. Hopefully, with time, Mama Murphy would ideally be of the willing mindset after multiple treatments with the solution to take the _Addictol_ all at once on her own terms. That was the plan.

Rebecca scurried back to the workbench and stuffed all the medicinal containers deep inside the back crevice, then grasped the cup filled with solution and pattered toward Mama Murphy's quarters. As she walked through the door, Mama Murphy could still be observed slumped up against the side of the wall, her condition unchanged though pleased with Rebecca's arrival.

"Dear, there you are. What took so long? You really had me going there," Mama Murphy lightly reprimanded.

Rebecca proceeded to seat herself back into the armchair with the solution still in hand. She glanced up at her elderly friend. "I'm sorry, Mama. I had spilled some of a drink on my hem and I just wanted to tidy up real quick," she lied.

Mama Murphy grinned from cheek to cheek. "I understand, doll." She peered toward the container held in the younger woman's hand. "Whatcha got there?"

"So, I promised I'd get you a fix, yeah?"

She nodded eagerly.

Rebecca continued, "Well, I was in Diamond city a while back and had heard about this new insta-chem powder smoothie mixes that one of the shopkeepers was raving about."

Mama Murphy's eyeballs looked like saucers. She was clearly feeding into the bait that was being presented.

"Basically, he told me about how you could liquefy this chem powder into a smooth, easily digestible beverage and receive the same high as Buffout capsules or Jet inhalers would give. So, I expressed my interest to him because I knew how much you would probably like this idea and he sold me all he had in stock," Rebecca spoke silkily.

As she exchanged looks with Mama Murphy, she could discern by her bulging eyes and slightly parted lips that she had hooked her into believing this wild tale. The old woman didn't presently see patience as a virtue whatsoever as she craned her neck forward in anticipation. "Honey, I'll try just about anything that gets me out of these damn shakes and into my dreamy high again. Give it here," Mama Murphy urged. "Quickly, now."

Rebecca did as she was bade and transferred the solution over to Mama Murphy's grasp. She was very gratified to see Mama Murphy chugging down half of the cup's contents in mere seconds. The stubborn, but lovable old lady would finally be getting the medicine she's so desperately needed.

 _Boy, the fact that I was able to convince her well enough and for her to take it without struggle is a miracle in itself._

Mama Murphy had briefly parted with her cup and a vague trace of a liquid mustache could be discerned above her upper lip as she smiled, completely dumbstruck and unaware. Rebecca had to hold herself back from giggling wildly, as she did not want to cast the impression that she was mocking her quirky friend.

She effectively stifled a laugh. "Um.. Mama Murphy? You have a little something," Rebecca indicated to her own upper lip.

Mama Murphy cocked her head, quizzical. She began to feel around her mouth and accidentally dabbed her fingers on the leftover mixture that was caked on to her skin. She extended her hand out to inspect it, then looked toward Rebecca who was very limited in her abilities to restrain herself anymore.

They both burst out laughing simultaneously at their own stupidity and shameless fun. Fits of cackling howls that sounded reminiscent to a wicked hag could be seen and heard emerging from Mama Murphy's lips. Only after several minutes did their trivial giggling dwindle down and Rebecca and Mama Murphy were curled up on the mattress with their arms slung over the dying rumbles of laughter in their bellies.

Rebecca seated herself upright and shook her head in disbelief. "Heh-heh. Well.. I'm glad I was able to bring some cheer to these old bones today, eh, Mama?"

Mama Murphy set her cup down beside the bed and rubbed Rebecca's sleeve affectionately like that of a mother to a child. "Girl, I haven't laughed that hard since…well. Wow, would you look at that? I don't think I can even remember the last time I was able to be that foolish over nothin'," she said fondly.

Rebecca grinned with pride. "Never a dull moment between us, it would seem."

"Without a doubt, dear."

As soon as Mama Murphy had finished saying that, an epiphany was brought to Rebecca's attention. She had completely lost track of the time. Someone else was still eagerly awaiting an answer from her, as well. She was reluctant to face the confrontation she knew to be inevitable. _Shit._

Rebecca stretched her legs before turning back toward Mama Murphy. "You look ten times better than when I first walked in today, Mama Murphy. I'm so glad we were able to have this time."

Mama Murphy patted the young woman's hands. "Better than you would believe, hon. I feel like I could swim a marathon." She considered the implications of these words. "Though maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea with the irradiated harbor an' all," she remarked cheekily.  
"Never mind me now, girl. You have a gentleman caller that awaits you."

Now it was Rebecca's turn to make eyes as wide as saucers. _There was no way she could have known anything. She didn't even have any chems administered, it was a damn placebo!_

"Oh, don't try and look so shocked, dear," Mama Murphy said casually. "Your reaction to what I said confirmed everything."

Rebecca had stuck her lower lip out and crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to pout. "You're real wicked sometimes, you know that?"

Mama Murphy bellowed another cackle so raucous that some could have believed that the walls had shivered slightly in response. "Everyone likes a little mischief. Now, go on. You don't want to keep a good man waiting too long, it's bad luck. Go on and get. Leave Mama to her thoughts."

Rebecca gave Mama Murphy a small, hopeful smile before starting the walk back toward the house where she had last left her heart.


	5. Chapter 5 - Breath Before the Plunge

The scenic pastoral sky had started to fade beyond sight in vivid splashes of burgundy, violet, and gold hues. As the day was coming to a close, a handful of socializing mothers began to usher their little ones indoors with the approaching darkness that warranted less than savory visitors. Rebecca strode along the uneven slates of concrete, arms crossed behind her back, thinking of the possible outcomes of her return.

 _What would there be to say?_

Rebecca hadn't meant for actions – or perhaps lack thereof – to take them so far.

 _By god, I almost kissed him!_

How could she be so foolish? She knew deep within herself that she would never be able to be the lover he deserved. Her rash impulsiveness had yet again stumbled her feet into a sticky mess that wouldn't be easy to part from.

Rebecca didn't expect that she would ever fall in love again. Nate's passing had shattered her in more ways than she'd imagined, but almost a year had drifted by since then and it felt to her as if she was finally getting on the mend. She was working hard every day to prove her worth in this new reality by ensuring that fledging farmers and their families could be invited to an easier living than what had existed before this bustling town. Although conditions would never be even remotely close to the green grass and Mister Handy lifestyle that she had grown so accustomed to in her time, at least this was a safe haven. As saddening as it was to think about, not many out in the Commonwealth could say the same of their own homes.

She supposed it might still be the continually dwelling thoughts on her boy, Shaun. He was still out there, lost and confused, and likely frightened of his surroundings. However, after the time Rebecca spent in the Memory Den, she didn't know what to think anymore; how old he was, if he'd been so convincingly indoctrinated by the Institute's agendas that he would no longer recognize her when she found him, or possibly hate her for reasons unknown. It was impossibly frustrating for her to have obstacles that physically prevented her from reaching her son as well as emotional distractions that she wasn't certain that she was ready to accept in her life.

The last thing she wanted to do was inspire false hope in this man that awaited her return for a relationship that she couldn't fulfill with her whole heart. He was too good for that sort of idling attitude.

Rebecca now stood outside the front door, her hand hovering over the knob. She briefly hesitated, but affirmed the importance of what needed to be done, and twisted her grip. As she walked into the dimly-lit living room, she observed that it was awfully quiet considering how many now occupied the upper levels. Her heels lightly clopped on the varnished wood as she scanned the room, searching for any signs of movement or-

"Looking for me?"

Rebecca swerved around on instinct toward the direction of the speaker. There he was, nestled horizontally on a long brown couch with his shapely legs outstretched over the armrest, his facial expression indiscernible.

 _Hancock._

She couldn't understand why, but as his eyes met her own, a flicker of fear coursed through her body. Rebecca pressed her lips together in nervous anticipation as she took several steps toward him.

He held up his hand to her. "That's alright. I actually thought we might take a walk in the cool night air. Staying in a humid house tends to fog up my head a bit too much." In truth, Hancock desperately wanted to escape from the prodding eyes of children at the top of the staircase that were inspecting him with an unsettling, doe-eyed scrutiny.

Rebecca smiled sweetly. "Of course. It's not too frosty out, but I should get my coat just in case."

Hancock proceeded toward the coat rack and took the patchwork leather parka off the hook. "Allow me," he offered sincerely.

She held her arms out as he gingerly pulled the material through and adjusted it snugly around her shoulders. "Thank you," she breathed.

"You're welcome," he said smoothly. Hancock slowly began to usher her out the door by the small of her back in a protective gesture.

They began to awkwardly stroll down the length of the multi-layered street, neither yet braving the tantalizing subject of what almost was. The silence was deafening as they continued past the gate guard and on to the rickety old bridge that defined the settlement's border to the Commonwealth's outskirts. Deciding to take the risk of a potential ambush at sunset, Rebecca and Hancock continued to trek further along the path until they had intersected at the Red Rocket Truck Stop. The location had long since been abandoned and no settlers had moved into the space as far as anyone knew. It was perfect for the privacy away from busybodies and task calls from the townsfolk alike.

The pair made their way through the old employees' lounge and into the extent of the garage. Space had long since been cleared out of outdated oil content computing devices, corners filled with trays of junk hardware, and large lumps of tires strewn about. Now there was an actual, comfortable lounging space complete with red lean-back seats, a soft chestnut-coloured couch, a table equipped with a stack of playing cards and a few bags of potato chips, and some calming murals of Monet dotted along the walls.

Rebecca sighed with immense relief. She was surprised at how thin-spread she could feel attending to the needs of the settlements' residents at times. Consequently, Sanctuary had the most demands despite their people having the highest stock of provisions and security.

She sauntered over toward a slightly moth-eaten sofa and seated herself, removing her shoes and tucking her legs underneath her posterior. Hancock decided to join her and slumped down on to another adjacent cushion. Fingers were starting to drum over armrests and hands started to fidget restlessly.

"Hancock-"

"Rebecca, I-"

Rebecca averted her eyes to her lap, her face glowing red. "Sorry," she whispered.

Hancock gazed at her, his dark orbs filled with compassion. "No, my fault. You go first," he smiled.

Rebecca smoothed the creases of her dress. "Well, I.. think we need to talk," she stated apprehensively. "About what almost happened today."

His heart raced with excitement as Hancock recalled their moment of kindled passion mere hours ago. Blood was rushing to forbidden regions of pleasure as he bathed in the memory of how close their bodies were and the flashes of hot desire that sparkled in her eyes, reserved only for him.

"Yeah… actually, that was the entire reason why I wanted to come all the way out here with you," Hancock said softly. "See, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now."

Rebecca peered at him thoughtfully as he started to explain.

"I was-" Hancock tried, but cut off suddenly.

He clamped his palms to his face in aggravation. Why was he getting so worked up? It wasn't as if he was an awkward adolescent anymore, but he still seemed to have trouble figuring out what he needed to say to someone he cared for so greatly. _All the time I spent in seclusion must be taking its toll on me._

Rebecca was still respectively holding her focus on him. "Yes?" Her voice carried like a feather adrift on the breeze.

Hancock gulped. "You know, as unconvincing as it might look, I did come here knowing what I wanted to say. I just don't seem to have the best timing," he said remorsefully.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Rebecca," he began. "When I'm with you, whether it's out gutting Super Mutants, helping you build up these places," Hancock gestured to their current environment. "Or putting up with the bullshit antics of your Brotherhood of Steel _superiors_ ," he emphatically growled on the last word. "I feel a… sense of content."

She was looking at him, a bemused expression stuck to her face. "Contentment? Super Mutants? Do those two even belong in the same sentence?"

Hancock laughed heartily. "Yeah, not exactly the delivery I was going for…" He was beginning to drift from his objective. "Look," he stated seriously. "My point I'm trying to make here is that when I'm by your side, no matter what is it we're tasked to do… I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.

"I'd cleansed myself of all my horrendous fuck-ups after the work I'd done to reform Goodneighbor from a crime lord's slum den into a refuge for the lost. My goal was to atone in any way I could for the innocent blood that was spilled on the Field all those years ago. The feeling better about myself part was just a bonus.

"Turns out that with all the benefits of looking this good, one of the biggest drawbacks of being a ghoul was how lonely it was," he said sadly.

Rebecca held her head in her hands, shame radiating through her body.

"I didn't have anyone that I could honestly talk with," he continued. "Sure, there were always drifters – ghouls and humans alike – that wanted to shoot the shit, get high on chems and forget about the troubles of the world. I mean, hell.. it's what had occupied most of my free time for years…"

Hancock shot up instantly from his seat. "But damn it, none of it satisfied me beyond the same night! I was so tired of the random stunts with chems and strangers I didn't even know," he shouted indignantly as he paced back and forth, his red frock coat billowing behind him.

Rebecca lifted her face from cupped hands and there were tear-stained cheeks that marred her freckled complexion, but Hancock had not yet taken notice.

He scrubbed a hand across his face and sighed. "It's just.. not how I wanted to remember the days of my life anymore," he said quietly. "After a while, I just convinced myself that I still needed to stay in town to keep up the reputation. No one else wanted the responsibilities of maintaining order, of leading the good fight one community at a time. But it needs to be done.

"Don't get me wrong, I couldn't see home anywhere else. I just thought I had everything figured out… until you walked through those gates… at 2 _fucking_ A.M.," he smiled fondly.

Rebecca gazed at him with those big, piercing cerulean eyes that could have speared his body to the wall with such intensity. "I suppose you could say that neither of us has the best concept of timing," she commented wistfully. "But in my defense, it was Super Mutants that Piper and I were fleeing. It was pure coincidence that I managed to find your little town, holed away as it were."

Hancock knelt down directly opposite her form. _Coincidence? More like destiny the way I see it._

He lightly chuckled. "You, always making problems with the Muties. Don't you know any better, woman?"

She pressed her lips together in mock annoyance and playfully jabbed his shoulder with her finger. _Why could we not continue to have this?_ She didn't want to lose the only true friend she could trust and confide in besides Mama Murphy. He was her lifeline, she would do anything to keep him.

Rebecca beamed, the wetness left behind from salty tears still blurring her vision. "Oh, you know how it is. I track it down, and it tails me right back. Trouble and I are a bit of a yin and yang unity, it would seem."

Hancock smiled as he cupped the face he so adored to hold in his hands. He lovingly smeared away the remnant streaks as her eyes shied from his fingers. She chanced a glance toward the man she had come to depend on, laugh with, worry for, and maybe even… _love._

Rebecca suddenly lurched forward and caught him in a tight embrace. Though initially taken aback by the surprise, he returned the favour thrice over as his arms enveloped her with the immortal promise of protection, comfort, and warmth of a man bound by the one tenet that was his woman's happiness.

Her fingers gripped securely to his muscled shoulders. "I care about you so much, Hancock," she muffled into the crook of his neck. His hold upon her didn't waver in the slightest as she spoke. "You're one of the most important people in my life. I don't know how well I would have gotten on without you there by my side," she said earnestly.

Her body began to quake with sobs as she pulled apart. "..and…that's why it's really difficult for what I'm about to say," she choked out, unable to restrain herself from forming fresh beads of tears. They trickled down the curvature of her smooth face, escaping on to the hem of her blue sequin dress. "I don't want to assume your feelings about anything, but…whatever this is between us now… it has to end." Rebecca's lip was quivering. "We c-can't be anything m-more than friends. I…"

Rebecca stood up and grasped his left hand. "I'm s-so sorry if this isn't what you were expecting. Thank you for hearing me out..truly. But I…" Her breath had hitched in her throat. "I-I just need to be alone right now."

She leaned forward to give him a gentle peck on the cheek and before Hancock could have any time to process what had just happened, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 6 - Scent of Fear

Rebecca had briskly departed the old garage. She couldn't bear to see Hancock's face after she had been so cruel to break the heart he had freely given to her. _There's no denying I'm a horrible, insensitive person after leaving him like that._ She felt like a coward, a dog with its tail in between its legs for no good reason.

She thought there had been logical reasoning behind her decision before they had left to come to this now ancient oil changing station. Before he had decided to spill his guts to her regarding how strongly he felt that she was the positive force in his life that was helping him to aspire to more than his mistakes. That had really hit the nail on its head for her.

And how did she respond to his raw soul being put on display? She walked out, trampling on all of his hopes because she didn't believe that she could handle anything new that might have brought her happiness and the much-needed closure that she sought after.

There was a sudden rustling of brush coming from the west side of the river. Rebecca wasn't willing to take any chances, whether creature or merciless Raider, so she lowered her stature as close to the ground as she could manage and hastened her footsteps as quietly as she could. Her heels were not contributing much in terms of stealth and she was exposed in the wilderness, clad in nothing to protect her from harm but the flimsy patchwork parka she wore over the dress. If this was a Deathclaw, it would be the end of her existence as she knew it. She would not be able to flee to cover quickly enough and didn't even have a damn gun on hand.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she chastised herself.

The disturbance immediately ceased. Rebecca had halted in her tracks, listening intently for additional movement. The only noticeable change in the environment was a distinct odor that had begun to waft around the air surrounding her. She briefly sniffed and was a bit surprised when it didn't immediately repulse her as strongly as a Deathclaw. The males were renowned for rolling around in their own urine to attract mates. No, whatever this was happened to be eerily familiar.

 _Like the stench of dried blood on rags and stale cram mixed with… gunpowder._

Rebecca's eyes widened instantly. _Shit!_

Something had violently pulled her ankle back, causing her to collapse on to the dirt. It turned out to be her latter fear as a badly bloodied Raider scum, who appeared to be gagging on his own fluids, crawled toward Rebecca. He sneered maliciously at her.

"You," he growled. "Your fucking turrets have really done me in this time, bitch!"

She observed that he was missing the right side limb below his knee joint and his poorly improved leather padding was showered in bullet holes. Lots of blood was seeping through the crevices in his armour and it didn't appear that he would last very long.

"Maybe I'll die in this fucking place, but I'm gonna make your life a living hell until I do," he snarled ruthlessly.

Rebecca attempted to hastily scramble away from his grip. She was immediately inhibited by the Raider's filthy hands clawing at her calves, angrily digging his nails into her skin, drawing fresh blood from the wounds inflicted. With all the strength he could muster, the Raider pushed his bulking arms on top of her knees, pinning Rebecca to the ground.

He cackled with a sickening sense of victory over her predicament. "Ha! You ever been pummeled by a Northwest Chain Raider before? Your pussy's gonna feel like it's been drilled by a jackhammer, bitch!"

He released an arm to yank up the hem of her dress, which Rebecca took full advantage of. She delivered a swift kick to his groin. As the Raider began yowling in pain, she decked him to the left cheek.

"Get the hell off of me," Rebecca screamed, gathering her strength to scurry backwards, away from his overpowering arms.

Her punch had moderately winded him of energy as the left side of his face quickly began to swell and blood was gushing from the corner of his mouth. He turned to spit out a tooth that she had subsequently dislodged while defending herself. "Oh, you cunt! You think you're gonna get away with that," he roared. "You're gonna wish your whore mother had never squeezed you out!"

As Rebecca made an effort to stand and yell for help, the Raider had slammed his meat bundle of a hand straight down on to her stomach to hold her in place and another had wrapped around her throat. Her attempts to squeeze out of his grasp were futile as he forced the entirety of his body weight where he trapped her at the torso.

This was the end of the line. She wasn't even close enough to the bridge to signal the night watchman that she was in serious danger and needed reinforcements. His hand was closing on her windpipe as she helplessly fought against the force he so easily exerted over her. Rebecca's vision was blurring from lack of oxygen and she knew she didn't have much time left either. This filth was going to ensure her death, one way or another.

She couldn't tell if she was hallucinating due to the lack of air intact for her lungs, but she could have sworn she heard footsteps arrive beside her. The Raider had been abruptly thrust off of her body and slammed into the ground nearby. As soon as the choke hold was released from her throat, Rebecca heaved and desperately gasped for breath as she knelt over to the side.

It was Hancock. He must have heard the commotion somehow and rushed out to apprehend the bastard responsible.

He had unholstered a concealed 10 mm pistol he had hidden away beneath his coat and was pointing it directly on the Raider's skull, another gnarled hand tightened at the scruff of the marauder's shirt collar.

"No, no! Have mercy, man," the Raider begged, pathetically grovelling for his life.

Hancock's eyes were livid. They no longer held the depth and wonder that mirrored the infinite starry night sky, but looked absolutely murderous as he was grappling the lone Raider, refusing him any room for lenience.

"How d'you like being imprisoned against your will, filth," Hancock hissed menacingly.

As Hancock's silhouette and the finer features of his face became enlightened under the luminous glow of the moon, the Raider's fear and intimidated stance morphed into a mocking cruelty. "Heh. What are ya gonna do to me, ghoul? Put nightmares in my head of your ugly ass face," he goaded. The Raider had clearly no idea who he was up against.

Hancock laughed, but it held none of the usual warmth and sarcastic quips that accompanied it. This was a cold, merciless laugh that he only reserved for the darkest moments in his life where he abandoned himself and that rumored killer instinct of his emerged. There would be no softness, no compassion, and _especially_ no mercy spared for any who had unleashed its wrath.

"Yeah. This damn ugly mug," he chuckled darkly. "See, that's not exactly the type of torture I had in mind for you." Hancock reached underneath his frock coat and into his holstered belt and produced his curved dagger. He immediately plunged the knife into the crest of the Raider scum's abdomen and a screech that had echoed for many miles could be heard well into their ears.

Hancock, numb to his actions, continued to run the gash slowly down the length of the Raider's belly and the screaming persisted in more heavily emphasized bursts of the some of the worst physical agony and suffering Rebecca had witnessed.

"Hancock," she cried, rushing to his side. He remained unresponsive, to which she began to wildly shake his arm, attempting to snap him out of his rage. "Hancock! Hancock, please answer me! Don't do this," Rebecca pleaded with him desperately. "This isn't you! Please, come back to me as you were. I need that man here with me now. I'm afraid of what you've become, please…"

Tears were streaming down her face as she tried to wake him from this state of mind, feeling overwhelming helplessness. She softly clasped his arm, "Please… you're more than the mistakes you've made. Don't let the hate diminish who you are… don't.." Rebecca hesitated for a fraction of a second before relinquishing. "Don't let it destroy the man I love…"

The Raider's screams began to dissolve as Hancock fished the knife from his stomach, smearing the blood from the blade on a nearby tuft of dry grass. The Raider's breaths were severely labored as he spoke, the voice so weak from the pain that it was almost inaudible. "P-Please," he rasped out. "Just fuckin' do me out now, man." He progressed into a violent coughing fit before spluttering more blood out on to his chest. The savage stare of the cantankerous man was now directed toward Hancock. "Just get it over with, _asshole._.."

Hancock peered nonchalantly at the dagger as he aimlessly twirled the compact blade around his fingers in an almost artful fashion. He then abruptly turned back to the Raider, and directly aimed the pistol he still secured in his other hand at the forehead of the worthless degenerate before him.

"Wish granted," was all Hancock said before pulling the trigger and blasting the Raider's brains across the flat of irradiated earth.

Hancock's face was devoid of all spirit as he wiped the spatter from his weapons and sheathed them back along their proper place upon his combat belt. As he finished, he stood up and offered a hand to Rebecca. "Are you alright?"

At the moment, she was the furthest possible from any term close to ' _alright',_ but she wasn't about to engage in an argument with him about what had just transpired. Her tongue would be held until a time when events from this evening all had time to settle. She accepted his hand and pulled herself off the ground. "Yes," she answered. "He didn't get the chance to do anything to me thanks to you." Rebecca smiled gratefully. "Thank you for... for saving me, Hancock."

He cleared his throat forcefully. "Yeah. Don't mention it, sweetheart," he remarked coolly. "It's just part of the job, pulling you out of trouble."

Rebecca bit her lip. She knew very well he wasn't pleased with her based on his change in attitude. But they weren't going to solve anything tonight. Her body was still on high alert from the intensity of the attack, so she was apprehensive of other possible threats in the area.

Hancock seemed to sense her shiftiness. "Well, I think we should get you home. It's been one hell of a night, that's for sure."

She nodded resolutely and they walked on in dead silence. Rebecca and Hancock both continued on past the bridge into Sanctuary where no disturbances seemed to be reported. The night guard at the front security gate didn't seem the least bit ruffled as she acknowledged their passing without question back into the settlement. As soon as the pair reached their parting point at the halfway house, they paused at the entrance.

Hancock was the first to speak up. "Look," he sighed heavily. "I…I can't even begin to explain what exactly _it_ was that you… saw." He clung to a corner of the house's metal frame and hung his head, ashamed.

"That's never a part of me that you should have been subjected to," he stated firmly.

Rebecca looked up at him. "But it is a part of you, isn't it," she queried, wishing not to hear the answer.

Hancock closed his eyes. "Yes and no," he responded. "It was a part of who I used to be. A person I thought was extinguished after Vic was gone."

Shaking his head, he opened those ebony irises to her that were jeweled like the night sky again, but lacked the warmth Rebecca so loved about them. "Turns out that you being mistreated... any thought or sight of you getting hurt set it off just as well. I don't think I would have been so misted during the whole episode if some part of me didn't believe you were going to die right there," he lamented.

A lone tear escaped his black orbs as he reached out to cup that delicate face one last time. Hancock gazed directly into her shining eyes. "I'm sorry I've failed you, sweetheart."

With that, he disappeared into the distant road that led to the far side of town, disappointment and sadness clouding over the memories into the early hours of the morning.


	7. Chapter 7 - Chasing Demons

_A.N._

 _Hi, everyone!_

 _Nice to finally be able to find some time to write an author's note this chapter. So, I hope you're all enjoying your progress through the story this far as I've very much relished keeping up with chapter writing, haha! Alas, finals for me are this week and I'll be away on Christmas leave this coming week. If I'm lucky, I may end up finishing the next two chapters I have panned out while on the train. If not, then I'll most likely update within the next couple weeks prior to the start of the new term in January._

 _As always, I immensely enjoy reading reviews from all of you guys. Constructive criticism is welcome and I'd like to hear your opinions on my interpretations of character interactions, as well. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday break and I eagerly look forward to the next update. Happy reading!_

* * *

Eyes were closed, though lights could be felt blaring down from all around. The surface seemed cold and metallic like the chill from a doctor's stethoscope on bare skin. However, the cool feeling she began to register beneath her back was a brief respite from the horrible spell of heat set in the room.

Streaks of sweat were racing down the slopes of her temple as Rebecca tossed and turned, willing herself to awaken from this state of discomfort. As her mind was dazing in and out of consciousness, she picked up the presence of two hushed voices in the room.

"..don't think she would be willing to cooperate…subject is prone to emotional outbursts," the first voice said, matter-of-factly.

The second voice responded. "…won't be much choice. We have leverage with the boy… do as she's programmed to do…"

Rebecca supposed she must be hallucinating. She was only getting bits and pieces out of the conversation, but it was unnerving her. _They mentioned a boy. Were these the bastards who had Shaun?_ She now felt a primal desperation to get to the bottom of where she was and what was going on as her body started to stir out of the drug-induced slumber.

"Wait, I think she's waking up. Go fetch the subject's agent, now," the first voice commanded. Judging by the pitch, it was a female.

Rebecca's lashes fluttered open. As she peered around, she found herself in a strongly secured room, floor to ceiling was sealed by titanium-steel alloy. There was a table two meters away scattered with stimpaks, a set of glass test tubes, syringes, and open files with photos of people she couldn't recognize from her current distance. Her slightly distorted gaze trailed to her lower body and she observed her joints at the wrists, knees, and ankles were bound by medical tape, ensuring she remain locked to the gurney she was lying upon. Based on how well preserved all of the resources and material in the room was kept, she assumed this facility was underground.

 _So, this is the infamous Institute? More or less predictable._ Especially with how they necessitated her kidnapping in order to make an appearance. Though after all the trouble she stirred up with numerous groups to find her son, it wasn't at all surprising.

"Ah, you're finally registering. Good," the female voice said.

Rebecca jerked her neck toward the sound of the woman's voice. _What the hell did she mean by 'registering'?_

As her vision began to focus, she observed the woman addressing her had dark hair that was pinned back in a seamless bun and was dressed in an otherwise ordinarily lab coat aside from the strange insignia that she bore upon the chest pocket piece. The woman smiled down at her, but Rebecca was in no mood to entertain rhetoric with the likes of these people. She wanted answers for what they'd done to her and she wanted them now.

She struggled against her binds. "Where the hell am I," Rebecca grunted in between exertions to loosen the restraints. "..and what have you done with my son?"

The lab assistant spared another small smile that made her skin crawl. "Relax now, Subject 111. There's no need to fret."

Rebecca couldn't understand why these strange people kept referring to her as a ' _subject'_ and what the mention of ' _programming'_ was about. They were speaking to her as if she were some sort of machine. This only further amplified her urge to get Shaun back from these petri dish probing amateurs.

"You bastards," she snarled at the woman in white. "Give me back my son. Give me Shaun or so help me, I'll make your lives a living hell!"

The woman merely chuckled, mocking the mother's plight. "Oh? What do you expect you'll do to me from your restraints, dear," she questioned condescendingly.

Rebecca furrowed her eyebrows as the woman in white continued. "Even if you were free from your bonds, what would you truly expect to accomplish? This is a fully functional and fortified facility miles underground," she chided, unabatedly.

The woman pursed her lips. "Your purpose is to fulfill our orders, nothing more," she stated curtly. "As a matter of fact, that little obstinate streak to want to defy your command is what landed you here now, Subject 111. It will require... tweaking."

Rebecca ignored the woman's chastising remarks as she barred her teeth. "I'll die before I give up trying to get to my boy," her eyes deadly as she challenged the woman's passive-aggressive antics. "And why the hell do you keep referring to me as a _subject_? I'm a goddamn human being, so how about you start talking to me like one!"

"Oh, let's not become vulgar. After all, it won't really work in your favor to be so rude now, will it? I don't think you're fully aware of the gravity of the situation you're in presently, much less your own self-awareness at this point." Although the woman was grinning at her, there was no trace of sincerity in the smile that offered little more than cold indifference.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the woman gestured toward the room's one exit. Another lab assistant had emerged and was guiding a young boy no older than his tweens toward her.

Rebecca felt as if her eyeballs were going to pop from their sockets. She couldn't believe it. There stood her son, healthy and unharmed. Though she hadn't had the chance to be with him over these last ten years, he looked unchanged from when she last witnessed his growth in the remaining vestiges of Kellogg's memories.

 _"_ Sh-Shaun? Is it really you," Rebecca asked, uncertainty and relief washing over her. She reached out a trepidatious hand to cup his face in a long-since absent gesture of motherly affection.

Tears welled up in her cerulean irises as her lips creased into rueful smile. "I'm-I'm so sorry," she apologized as her voice began to break. "For all that you've been put through, my darling." Rebecca stared directly into the child's eyes that mirrored her own. "I'm your mama, Shaun."

Shaun didn't respond to her, but instead looked up at the male assistant that had ushered him in. "What is Subject 111 talking about, sir?" The boy's question was mechanical, without any emotion.

To hear her own son say that cut deeper than any bullet she had taken in the Wasteland. _Was this some sort of sick joke?_

The male assistant patted the boy's shoulder. "It's alright, Subject CM-111-3. Resume non-duty rest mode."

Shaun nodded his head. "Affirmative, sir." As soon as he'd finished, the boy's body slumped slightly forward and his face now bore a vacant expression as the machine's system functions went offline.

Rebecca's nostrils flared as she narrowed her eyes toward the woman again. "What the _fuck_ is this?! That is not my son! What have you done with my boy, you twisted psychopaths," she shrieked. Though she had since relented in her struggles to break free of her bonds, Rebecca had leaned away from hollow eyes as she wept.

"You will learn just as all of the other synths here have, Subject 111, that dereliction from your assigned programming is unacceptable. Punishment is in order for subjects who fail to obey," the woman stated callously.

Almost immediately, Rebecca felt herself go numb at the arms and legs as her body began to feel like a husk, weighing down any chance for freedom she could have scrounged. The only part of her now lifeless vessel that she could move was her head as she shifted her neck toward the two assistants.

"Why," her voice cracked out. Rebecca could only muster the strength for a few more words. "Why have you done this to me?"

There was that cold, calculating smile of hers again as the woman gazed down at Rebecca's limp form. "You had the most potential out of all of them. However, strangely enough, you've conceived this idea of freedom from the Institute." Then, the woman leaned in close enough for her cheek to brush up against Rebecca's ear. "But there is no escape from us. We will always find you."

Rebecca shot up from her mattress with a jolt. Loose tendrils of her auburn hair clung to her forehead, sticky with sweat that was still trickling down her brow. Heavily panting, she took a critical glance around the vicinity of the darkened room that was the third floor of the halfway house. Several residents that were lodging here still seemed to be sound asleep in their beds. There was a brief ray of light beginning to break through the gaps in the roof as the dawn signaled the welcoming of a new day. A new day that ensured Rebecca she was not a synth captured by the Institute and that she still had a fighting chance to chase down whoever held Shaun.

As her erratic breathing had simmered down, Rebecca wiped a loose sleeve from her ragged gown over her face and slouched herself against a metallic sheet of wall, hugging her legs to her chest. She had severe doubts about her capabilities as a mother if she was still encountering difficulties tracking down her son after so many months had passed since his capture.

How was she supposed to trek the far extent of the Glowing Sea? She had already attempted once to scale its depths and had nearly gotten ravaged to pieces by a pack of Deathclaws that were waiting suspiciously behind a raised slope of desert rock. She'd hammered their alpha leader with as much firepower as she could muster from behind the hardy exterior of her Power Armor that the Brotherhood had granted after her promotion to Knight stance, but the abominations proved their resistance in this unforgiving cesspit and Rebecca was forced to flee.

Though Paladin Danse had been more than thrilled to welcome her into their ranks, Elder Maxson and Captain Kells among others seemed reluctant to bring her into the flock. She knew she wasn't cut out for military ordinance.

Before the bombs landed, she was head of her own firm and she executed legal verdicts in a fair, but just manner. Rebecca hadn't been a fan of the Brotherhood's contradictory policy that sought to eliminate secret organizations like the Institute whose synths targeted innocent bystanders on sight, but didn't take responsibility for soldiers' occasional friendly fire that would result in civilian casualties. They did have a mutual understanding as far as helping each other out until it no longer worked to serve the convenience. This wasn't a personal policy that she was accustomed to living until she first saw the raw, savage nature of the Commonwealth at its worst. If you didn't look after your own back, it was a kill or be killed agenda and the latter wasn't really an option for her, considering what was at stake.

There was no question that she needed help. Though it couldn't be sought from the Brotherhood. Whatever was awaiting her at the edge of the Glowing Sea would certainly be pumped full of lead in mere seconds if she was to have a Knight or even an Initiate from the Brotherhood accompany her. It was shoot first, ask questions later for them. That kind of attitude wouldn't do, particularly if her child was involved.

No, she needed someone whose health wouldn't be in jeopardy by the simple crossing into the lethal plane of radiation and the gang of hostile, rabid creatures that survived in its depths. It's not as if there were Power Armor suits raining down from the heavens and the Brotherhood of Steel wasn't keen enough on her own mission to provide a spare. She required help from someone who was objective in their handling of flammable political matters and that she trusted implicitly.

Despite the fact that the sun had barely broken over the horizon, Rebecca would not allow herself to try and sleep further even if her body was still exhausted from the vivid nightmares. She pushed herself off of the mattress and began stuffing her survival pack full of Stimpaks, Nuka-Cola, Rad-Away, and other aids that would keep her alive in what she foresaw to be the next few weeks worth of Wasteland wanderings. After slipping on a pair of clean army fatigues, adjusting some upgraded protective leather padding and effortlessly fastening a sturdy plated chest piece to her upper body, Rebecca grabbed her bag, some various small guns and a loaded scoped hunting rifle, and bolted down the set of stairs.

As soon as she was out of the house, she glanced down both directions of the old road, one that led toward the far side of Sanctuary and the other that traced into the extensive wilderness that was the untamed Commonwealth.

Rebecca hadn't seen any trace of Hancock since he departed, following the incident at the nearby Red Rocket truck stop. It was assumed that he left the town at some point shortly after he bid her goodnight at the door yesterday evening. She had decided to go traipsing through the streets for hours, mere minutes after he had left, in search of him. In the end, Rebecca was so drained from scouring the neighborhood for any sight of him that she had returned to the halfway house and collapsed on to the only unoccupied bed there was left on the third floor.

It didn't feel right to her, leaving off on this type of awkward note. Even if she had been evading her true feelings for how desperately she just wanted to launch herself into his soothing embrace again. Just so she could experience that rare moment of comfort and protection away from the vile horrors of this world that served as a product of humanity's fear and lust for power. She hadn't forgotten the feeling of his warm breath upon her chin or his gnarled fingers tracing lines lovingly across her cheeks as he framed her face with his hands. Rebecca didn't expect a ghoul to have such soft hands with how pruned most of his kind looked as a result of extreme rad exposure. Albeit their misshapen and slightly lumpy form on the tops of his palms, the undersides of his hands felt incredibly smooth as Hancock had so delicately held her face in them. She had felt so vulnerable at the time, not understanding when they had become progressively less cordial and more physically familiar with each passing over the last several weeks they'd spent making improvements in town.

On several occasions, it seemed as if he had intentionally planned to cross paths with her on his way to grab more supplies for various projects. Hancock would strut right past her with a simple greeting along the lines of, "Hey there, doll", tip his hat politely to her and their hands would brush. It had been brief and innocent for all intents and purposes but each time this happened, Rebecca had turned away, blushing madly.

Ironically, he appeared so much happier fixing up houses here than the last days he had remained in Goodneighbor as mayor. He seemed… absolute, if that was even possible. Especially when compared to the free-for-all, anarchy-based lifestyle that he had settled so many years for. It was like he could be himself without the restrictions of duty, even if he was performing back-breaking labor to get some of the more low-functioning properties in shape.

In any case, he was long gone now and though Rebecca felt a pang of sadness course through her heart for his decision to leave, she knew that she couldn't face him. Not yet.

The most important objective in her life had taken a place on the burner for far too long. Now that Rebecca had a solution to her dilemma, she wasn't about to allow the opportunity to find her son slip away from her again. Pulling the strap of her survival pack tightly over her shoulder, Rebecca turned toward the bridge and began to follow her Pip-Boy map southeast, toward Diamond City.

 _There is one man that I know who could help me, provided he isn't too caught up with rescuing rebellious daughters from the arms of their Raider boyfriends._


	8. Chapter 8 - Back to Square One

A.N.

 _Hi, all!_

 _First off, I'm terribly sorry for the unprecedented delay in updates. Not at all what I had planned. There were some.. unforeseen complications when I returned from holiday with school, work. Etc. Just as well, this last week has been hell for me as I've struggled to recover from some mysterious problem within my stomach or around my general abdominal region. I got some tests and an US done to figure out what's wrong as it's kept me restrained in bed for the last while. Basically, it sucks krogan quad._

 _But, in good news! So happy I've been able to find the time in between all the craziness to finish this chappie and generate some new ideas for the remaining outcome of the story. Certainly not going in the original planned direction. Fleshing out some more characters along the way and the next few chapters (including current and previous) are going to be more of a filler quality. Not necessarily a bad thing, just allows me further time into char development and emotional tension. As always, please do R &R! It truly makes my day to read what you like/dislike or any general suggestions you might have!_

 _Enjoy, dear readers! :)_

* * *

The Third Rail was bustling with business on a particularly packed Friday night. Whitechapel Charlie was astounded by the influx of customers demanding the cheap swill Scollay Square left behind in the wake of the atomic blow-out, but the serving bot certainly wasn't complaining. Magnolia's sultry-sweet tones were flowing effortlessly through the plumes of smoke and depravity that attracted such a diversified clientele into the den's warmer sub-levels. Patrons were crashing glass mugs together in a joyous gesture of merriment and carefree lifestyles. Many drifters usually tottered around, searching for an easy fix and the like-minded company to fuel their expenditures with.

It was common knowledge to those who wandered over to Goodneighbor frequently enough to call themselves 'residents' that the Third Rail was good for two things: chems and camaraderie. You could always find an aimless Wastelander that, if they could resist the urge to pummel your face in for disturbing them, would be more than willing to lay back and shoot the shit with the low-cut as well as the luxurious variety of drugs that filtered in through the city's many connections.

This evening proved to be yet another one of those times for the self-appointed Mayor Hancock as he was looking to lose himself in the musty mayhem of Goodneighbor that was a welcome sight for sore eyes.

Hancock's limbs draped comfortably over the stretch of a leather couch so worn and wrinkled that it could have been as old as the withered ghoul it supported. His squashbuckler boots stretched out as he grasped a pint of pungent ale in one hand and pinched the end of a cigarette to his lips with the other. As he inhaled, he felt the familiar essence of warmth and control return to his body. Too many months had passed since his initial leave with the beautiful vault dweller, and though he trusted Fahrenheit implicitly and unquestioningly with the upkeep and reputation of the town, Hancock could sense that the regulars were getting a bit too… cheery.

 _Somethin' is up, for sure._

Smirking to himself, Hancock took a deep swig of his drink, shaking off the repugnant flavour lingering on his tastebuds.

Not that he had any problem with that. People that resided in this dingy dive were usually quick to drown themselves in strong booze and whatever batches of party chems there were leftover as a retreat from their personal grievances. It was refreshing to see a change in mood, yet Hancock ensured that all his patrons alike always had enough to go around. Those who were wise enough to understand their part played in the larger game deserved to be rewarded and he spared no expense for their loyalty.

Fahrenheit as well as her left and right hand henchmen were lounging comfortably at the bar. She nodded to him respectfully before departing her triggermen whose attention had temporarily been redirected by the pouring of shots.

"Well, look what the Yao Gaoi dragged in," she remarked with a toothy grin. "We were startin' to think that you'd permanently bailed after bein' wrapped up for so long with that pretty little redhead."

Hancock bristled at the mention of his-…well, what exactly was the daring and down-to-earth vault dweller to him? A friend? Trusted partner? Closeted lover..? _No,_ she had made quick work to eliminate that possibility by, yet again, fleeing at the first sign of trouble. At least, only with him did she feel it necessary to vacate as soon as the opportunity arose. Ironically, that road wasn't all that unfamiliar to him.

He felt his insides stir with discomfort. The recollections that drew similarity between his past follies and Rebecca's choices with recent regard to his role in her life disturbed him greatly.

Hancock scoffed nonchalantly. "You really think I'd let some dame, fresh outta one of them glamorous Vaults whisk me away and leave you, the one and only woman who I can trust enough with business and who gladly puts up with my bullshit?"

He knew he was trying more so to convince himself than he was attempting to divert away from the many questions he suspected his second-in-command had.

Fahrenheit snorted and shook her head. "More than what's recommended, that's for damn sure." She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her side pocket and removed one to hug between her lips as she scavenged the depths of her ammo carrier for a lighter.

Realizing her predicament, Hancock retrieved his own and stumbled a few times trying to make a spark with the stubby tips of his fingers before extending it toward her. "Here. You ought to stay a bit more organized there," he teased, offering her the flame.

She leaned down to ignite the parchment-wrapped cylinder hanging from her mouth. "Heh. Looks who's talkin'." Fahrenheit stood up and arched her back as she took a long drag, blowing a few small smoke rings in front of her face. "I recall a guy that got so fucked up from a bad trip once that he ended up spilling all his Mentats and losing his Jet in a bunch of couch cushions."

As she finished, Hancock leaned forward to set his glass of what tasted like a sorry excuse of pisswater for alcohol on the nearby table.

 _Gotta remember never to take a drink from Charlie again. Damn bucket of bolts might actually slip something truly foul in there next time. Deathclaw urine..._

He slightly grimaced before easing back into his seat and popping a Mentat from a fresh container in his mouth."The biggest Wasteland asshole there ever was and it ain't even some shit-for-brains shootin' me up for money." He snickered mischievously. "No wonder that sofa always smells like rank shit when I go to take a nap."

Laughing to himself, Hancock swirled the tart capsule around with his tongue, beginning to grow accustomed to the familiar feeling of refined awareness and the contrasting calm away from the excitatory power of nicotine. Hancock always loved to experiment and combine different effects of chems. He saw it as a sort of challenge that would allow him to test the boundaries of his ghoul body's resistance to the drugs, even with the many risks that course of action would pose to his health.

After he'd started running with Rebecca, his desire for the mix of party chems was progressively diminishing. While he wouldn't deny himself the novelty of his fruity variety of Mentats, he laid off most of the stuff that would have granted him the hardcore high he'd long since relished in a bloody but invigorating firefight. Despite the strange upbringing she'd spoken of in her world where drugs were a more inflated luxury item that people were discouraged from using, she never voiced a chastising word about his insatiable cravings for the bonuses that his connections in the city provided him.

 _I think that's what I lo-… appreciate most about her,_ he caught himself. _She never judged me by what she saw alone._

"Hey, boss. Boss!" Fahrenheit was now jabbing his shoulder with the blunt end of the bottle she brought with her. "What the fuck gives?"

Hancock's hundred mile stare was shattered at the presence of his bodyguard's irritated voice ringing in his deformed lump of an ear. He blinked several times before responding.

"Uhh-..sorry 'bout that, doll." He considered it almost amusing that he should be so distracted since these chems were supposed to sharpen his mental acuity.

Fahrenheit clicked her tongue knowingly. "Well... I was just gettin' through telling you about the increase of raider assaults at the west gate entrance. Me and my men have reason to believe that they're becomin' more organized. More confident, like they're planning something." Noticing his continually diminishing concentration, her thin lips stretched for a flicker of a second into a small, but rare smile. She rolled her eyes.

Fahrenheit certainly wasn't a stupid woman. She had long since suspected her boss was sweet on Miss McGoodie-Two-Shoes from the Vault who had unwittingly waltzed right into the heart of what the Commonwealth represented. Or at least some pipe dream the boss had always hoped it could represent by working the city one day at a time. That the place could become a pinnacle of justice and freedom while still maintaining its ballsy streak that kept most hostile scavs away.

The hardened bodyguard may not have warmed up initially to the idea of reforming the criminals' paradise that was Goodneighbor before Hancock decided to take the reins, but she respected the hell out of her ghoulish role model and friend. She guaranteed that no one would try to covertly fuck with him while she was around. As much as she admired her superior, Fahrenheit recognized that he held a subliminal weakness for the ladies. Though none of the half-time, fairweather broads that he'd been with over the many years she had spent working for the stubborn bastard had wooed him over so easily and completely. This girl was… curious to her.

She shook her head and smirked. The guy was hopelessly hooked on this babe. If Fahrenheit wasn't already seeing this mercenary drifter at the south end and her boss hadn't been caught swooning like a lovesick mongrel, she wouldn't omit the possibility of shacking up with the gorgeous, freckled vault dweller who wielded her weapons with an untamed grip and whose eyes bore a virulent determination that Fahrenheit only seldom witnessed from people. _Certainly no one in my crew,_ she thought disappointedly.

Hancock continued to sit in conflicted silence as he took a few swift drags, the murky cloud of tobacco fumes reflecting the hazy mystique of his wandering mind. He wasn't left blind to that bitter irony.

"How d'you figure that," he asked drily, funnelling smoke out of his nostrils.

"There were detonations of C-4 made just outside the west entrance, though not placed effectively enough to cause any serious damage. I have my reasons to think they were placed as a sort of warning to intimidate us or some shit." Fahrenheit chuckled darkly. "I'd like to see 'em try to take this place on. I'd fill a fuckin' bloodbath with 'em."

Hancock doused the remains of his cigarette butt in a nearby ashtray. "I have no doubts that you would make good on that promise."

She beamed proudly before calling out to a young man nestled behind the bar counter. "Yo, Danny! We need a refill over here," Fahrenheit barked. She turned to her ghoul compatriot. "You need another round, boss?"

The less than savoury stump that remained of Hancock's nose cringed with displeasure. He looked as if he'd caught whiff of a charred Raider corpse as he sneered at the abandoned glass of ale. "I think I'll pass on that."

"Nix what I last said, Danny. Just bring the one over," she hollered at the boy.

Hancock observed the exchange with amusement. "Wow, Temp," he said with a mocking glee. "I didn't realize there was some softshell meat under that big ole 'Lurk exterior you show off," he laughed jovially.

Hancock had grown used to assigning nicknames to all of his favourite people as a means to better remember them after their first introduction. Abbreviations tended to be rather helpful if you spent a significant portion of your time high or hungover from his experience. In his most trusted bodyguard's case, he gave her the nickname Temp as a short for 'temporary hiree' when he first began making use of her brawn-based services.

In the Wasteland, no one had the slightest guarantee that even your help wouldn't turn on you, so he kept his expectations low and guarded and waited for what he believed to be another desperado short on caps and chems to jump him.

That time never came. Eventually, after a few years had passed, his sarcastic quips had begun to grow on her rather than earning him a humoured punch to the gut. Hancock certainly didn't dole out his trust lightly, but he had respect for people who had balls enough to sass him back. Though he would never feed her ego - which was arguably almost as big as his, however, not quite there – Hancock admitted that his blood-bound soldier and friend was a large part of the reason why his presence kept up around the city.

Few would dare to question the authority of John Hancock, the man turned ghoul who could both sweep the community with a rousing, charismatic speech and find at least sixteen creative ways to kill you within seconds if you messed with him. But no one even remotely considered it a good idea to get on Fahrenheit's bad side. If you earned yourself a position on her hit list, not even fleeing the Commonwealth would keep what was left of your entrails after she'd gotten hold of you from being fed to the hounds. In short, there wouldn't be anything left to track down.

Fahrenheit slugged the side of his arm. "Shaddup, Jet-for-brains."

Her rather temperamental, unpredictable nature helped to stick the name brand.

Hancock raised his arms defensively. "Hey, whatever floats your boat, Temp," he smirked. His beady black eyes twinkled with mischievous delight. "Hell, I never would've guessed you had a tender spot for the _youngens_."

The boy behind the counter, who looked to be no older than about thirteen years with a lanky, malnourished frame, approached the pair with rehearsed caution. His bony hands began to tremble slightly, rattling the tray of aged ale he'd carried with him.

Hancock inspected the tween suspiciously. _Why the hell is he so jittery? Still a little too fresh from the cradle to be screwing around with chems._

"Hey, Danny. Just _chill,_ okay? He's not gonna bite." Fahrenheit narrowed her eyes toward her inebriated boss who had casually popped another Mentat on to his tongue. "At least, not while I'm babysittin' him, he won't."

Danny quickly set the drinks on the grime-covered coffee table and flashed a tip-lipped smile before pattering back toward the bar.

"New arrival, I take it," Hancock queried, slightly interested.

"Yeah," Fahrenheit replied gruffly. "Just another ankle-biter that drifted in while you were off playin' house with your… _squeeze_."

Observing his indignant glare, she simpered with satisfaction. Although he had every right to come and go when he pleased as mayor, she was pissed that he'd unceremoniously dropped all the responsibilities to the town on her. Fahrenheit wanted to know what it was about this girl that had him dazed worse than a heavy dose of Daytripper.

"Lay off, toots," Hancock snapped, relighting a new roll-up. "I don't pay you enough to lecture me about my personal life."

His hostility regarding the subject was peculiar. She had never known Hancock to be quick to anger as he deflected most issues that came up with humour or drugs. Or a public display of embarrassing acts involving both.

"Woah, and here I thought I was the hothead..." Fahrenheit turned to crack her collarbone. "Touchy motherfucker," she muttered.

Hancock abruptly shifted from his erect position on the musty couch and swung his heels on to the coffee table, spilling a few leftover pils. Nobody in the joint was the least bit rattled as they carried on, giggling raucously and enjoying the electric charge that came equipped with being sloshed beyond shame.

"So, what's the little whelp's story," he inquired absently as he sucked in a hit of Jet, feigning his irritation with his bodyguard's overt nosiness.

 _When the hell did she start to care?_


End file.
